The Secret's in the Telling
by kateofallpeople
Summary: AR. Poll Winner. Thoughts have been pestering Hermione while she attempts to stay unharmed. What if someone found out? What could happen? And what if she couldn't stop herself from absolutely falling in love with him? HG/BZ. Trio at Hogwarts for year 7.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: IT FEELS SO GOOD TO BE BACK. Anyway, here I am starting a new story. For those of you that have alerts on me, I MISSED WRITING FOR YOU. Now I'm here. For those of you that are new, add an alert to me! I'm making my official come back to FFnet (seriously this time, guys) and I'm more than excited to be back. I'm posting two new stories today, and I'm really hoping you'll enjoy them both. Once I get those started and get back my thrill for fanfics, I'll resume my other stories. It has been a tough last eight months on me, but I'm back and better than ever. Okay, a little back info. The trio is returning to Hogwarts for a seventh year, Harry reasons this is because he doesn't know where to start for Horcruxes. They're not sure what to expect, because of the current political upset, but everyone is pretty much hoping Hogwarts is semi-normal. Of course, they're wrong. Hermione is upset over changes in the school and in everyone around them, seeks solace elsewhere. Not what she expects at all. Can't give away anything else, Enjoy! **

It wasn't the way her hair fell - gods, no. Her hair looked as if she'd stuck a fork just a bit too deep into an electrical socket. But it wasn't her personality either - her haughty, know-it-all attitude had done more than drive away anyone else within a stone's throw. She was a disaster, as far as he was concerned. She was somewhat plain, bratty, and every time they saw each other, the disgusted look on her face did not remind him of previous pleasantries. In short, he had no idea why the hell he'd fallen for Hermione Granger. Perhaps it was the thrill - she was the forbidden fruit, the golden apple, the one he'd be tormented for forever if he even thought of taking a bite. She was the enemy - no, not the enemy. Though it had been hard for him after the war to determine where she lie on the spectrum of friends to annoyances, she'd fallen somewhere towards the middle. Nothing particularly offensive, and a few positives - her devilish smile, her coy charm - had set her in a difficult place to label. She had a place of her own then, completely off the spectrum.

Blaise set down his pristine copy of his spellbook. Year Seven. It was rubbish, they all knew it. And yet somehow, here they were. He was tucked away in a library nook, far enough that nobody would bother him and close enough to the door that he could get out without being noticed. To be quite frank, he'd visited the place a number of times over the years. It was his first choice of haunt when his fellow Slytherins were nowhere to be found - and it was ridiculous to think that he'd associate with anyone outside of his house. Except her, of course. He found himself unable to study again. She'd done this to him, without even knowing. She'd absolutely upset his life. And it had only been about two months.

There had been late nights, early mornings, locked doors and very far walks around the grounds. Hidden letters, charms, and surprises to the both of them. His mind wandered to a particular afternoon hiding just inside the line of the forbidden forest. She'd been waiting behind a tree, her hands folded in her lap and her head resting back against the trunk. Her face and neck was bruised, and the sight made him beyond furious. He guessed his approach to be nearly silent, as she didn't open her eyes to see him there, watching her. She was breathing - just breathing. And every few moments humming a tune or clicking her tongue. It was this Hermione, he now realized, that he'd become so interested in. She was a breath of fresh air, and she was so rational - something he didn't find terribly often in the dim dungeons of Slytherin. She was so strong. Also, it was a Hermione he'd never imagined even existing before - when they had these secret meetings, gone was the Hermione with her hand shooting into the air in Potions. Gone was the Hermione with her brow furrowed and a perpetual stressed look on her face. When he shifted his footing, she'd heard the grass moving. She opened her eyes slowly, leaning her head over to see him standing there. "There you are. I've been waiting for you to show up, you know." Her smile could have killed him faster than Avada Kedavra.

The library had fallen fairly silent. He thought it best to leave while he still could. He threw his things into his rucksack and reached to grab his quill from a corner when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

It was her. She smiled, gave a slight wave, and scurried away. She hadn't dared stop longer than that - if anyone had seen the two of them together, it would be a disaster. He watched her slip around a corner, her heavy bag the last thing to disappear from sight. He smiled and retrieved the quill, the vision of her face consuming his thoughts entirely.

* * *

It had began months earlier, with a letter. She flipped it over in her hands and began to read the enclosed letter and lists. She practically had it memorized after all these years. The ornate H seal over the flap of the envelope had her mind spinning again, reeling with the idea of their seventh year. It had seemed impossible after last year, after the death of their beloved headmaster Albus Dumbledore, that Hogwarts even continue to exist. She could not picture the stone walls or sweeping grounds without hearing his voice or envisioning the flowing white beard. In the last few months, she'd begun to think of him as more that human. With the changes going on around them, politically and otherwise, she couldn't help but wish that things were as simple as they'd been in years previous. She shook the thought from her head. Ron had walked up behind her.

"Oi. Got your letter then?" His was folded, tucked away in his pocket. Totally and completely Ron Weasley.

"Yes of course. I came here straight after. My parents drove me, I think after explaining to them about Dumbledore they know things are going to change this year."

"Yeah. It's going to be loads different. I can't even imagine what Harry's thinking..."

"Is he still asleep then?" Hermione stepped to head towards the stairs, hoping to wake him and possibly get him to talk. Dumbledore's death had been especially difficult on her best friend, who had spent a great portion of the time since then sleeping, reading, or pacing. He had changed, and not for the better.

"Yeah, I'll go and get him." Ron slipped past Hermione, a hand on her waist, and ran upstairs. The touch had brought warmth to her, but not as contact with Ron had before. It was childish infatuation, at times. But she honestly believed that inside Ron somewhere, there was a right gentleman. He just had yet to show it. And there lie her problem - he was her other best friend. Harry had mentioned once or twice in the last year about the two of them, and the idea had seemed so foreign and strange that she cast it aside until it surely rose up again days later - a glance, a smile, an extra long hug. Before she could contemplate it more, Ron came down to sit with her, Harry silently trudging along behind him.

"Good morning, Harry. Sleep well?"

"'Mione. Not really." He slid into the chair farthest from them, his head resting on his arms. Hermione watched him for a moment. He didn't move, didn't speak, and barely seemed aware that he was awake at all. The only thing she could hope, was that things would get better. She was in for a rude awakening.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Oops. My ADD brain makes me forget to update. Hahah. Anyway, I'm back again, updating this story... I like the potential here, and I'm actually just about ready to start again on my other fics. I watched HBP today and it reminded me of so much, and I still haven't watched the DH1 trailer because I know it's going to drive me crazy... my Harry Potter obsession is at a good peak right now. Anyway, here comes the normal time in the fic, here we go, hopefully you enjoy this because it's been a while since I've written anything... **

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**The throng of witches and wizards gathered at Platform nine and three-quarters was eerily silent. The usual sound of voices bouncing off the high stone walls was absent, as was the usual cheer of returning to what was, for many of them, a second home. Instead, whispers drifted between small groups of families, students, staff. This year of Hogwarts would be like no other that they had experienced before. The usual expectation of seeing Albus Dumbledore, his elegant robes and long hair, was not to be expected. After the tragic ending of the previous year, it was uncertain as to whether or not Hogwarts would open its doors this year at all. Sure as silver, however, letters arrived a month previous and students scoured small towns as an alternative to Diagon Alley - many daren't step through into previously popular wizarding areas. Things had turned grim.

Hermione leaned against the wall with her eyes closed, breathing in the scent of the station. The sharp smoke of the train, the shampoo scent on Harry's hair beside her, the parchment tucked into her pocket, it was almost too much. This would be her last time boarding this train bound for Hogwarts. Knowing the plan for the next few months, she, Harry, and Ron might possibly not be there long enough to see snow. They would be leaving Hogwarts to end the war, to conquer evil, and then? What would become of them? Since she'd been told she was a witch over seven years previous, nearly all of her life had been consumed by school, by spending time with Ron and Harry, with finding themselves in exciting yet dangerous situations. To be perfectly honest, their plan wasn't even very good. They had almost nothing to go on. They had no ideas on where they might stay, what they might do, or wherever any of these 'horcruxes' might be. Even Hermione herself was stumped as to what the next step would be.

And so they found themselves returning to Hogwarts. Harry had arrived at the Burrow on the same day she had, and both of them with Ron had thought of ideal locations for Horcruxes. Harry had the most strong feelings about Hogwarts - Voldemort's first and only real home - though Hermione wasn't sure the lure of returning to their school was entirely for the war's sake. Still, they carried on, trunks in hand. Harry tapped her shoulder.

"You know, I've just thought of it now, though it really should have come to mind earlier. Who's going to be headmaster? I imagine McGonagall would be next as Headmistress, but with the Ministry taking over... she never said many kind things about them, that I remember."

Hermione opened her eyes, shook her head, and closed them again. "I have just as much a guess as you. I can't even think about it. Every time I think of Dum-... I can't even say it. Every time I think of him, and how he won't be there... it's not really going to be Hogwarts anymore. Hogwarts always had Dumbledore, always."

Ron stood up then, having previously been slumped down and sitting by Harry's feet. "D'you know, I've thought about it a ton and I still have no idea. I s'pose we're just better off waiting, then." As he spoke, the whistle sounded, and he jumped. "Look, there it is. Let's get on early so we can get a good compartment, I hate getting stuck at the tables in the middle, no privacy..."

Hermione smiled for the first time all morning. Ron, save him, was the only one who could keep good spirits, given the situation. Perhaps it was his dim sense of security, his slight optimism, or just him being stupid, but for some reason he couldn't find anything bad about returning to Hogwarts. He'd told them, the three of them crowded into his bedroom late last night, "it'll give us plenty of time to think about where these things might be hidden. And maybe some of them are there! That would be bloody convenient..."

The usual cart of sweets did not come around. When Hermione had gone off for Prefect duty (apparently, most of the school traditions still applied for now) Ron and Harry had waited, and it had not come. When the train stopped, they were not greeted as usual by the giant Hagrid, and the first years did not take boats, but were instead crammed into the carriages with the rest of the students. Upon reaching the gate, there was no professor stopping to check their names and write them in. In fact, the entrance to Hogwarts was most unusal because of the lack of anyone at all. Draco Malfoy seemed to be doing most of the directing - Crabbe and Goyle flanking either side of him - while students within earshot chose between listening and running in fear. There was something different about Malfoy that was apparent to Hermione then. His eyes were wide and bright, his gestures larger and his famous little smirk more apparent than ever. Perhaps it was just a change from the fearful, jumpy Malfoy the year previous, but it was enough to make even Hermione shake in her boots. Among those in the small crowd of friends or followers around him were the ever-annoying Pansy Parkinson, snooty Blaise Zabini, and a rather smug looking Daphne Greengrass. The sight of them made Hermione sick, but the feeling of Harry and Ron's arms going around her shoulders stopped the fear cold.

"Ready then?"

"Harry, things don't look good..."

Ron shifted. "We know. But we're here then, aren't we? We can't just stand here..."

Hermione agreed and the trio walked towards a carriage with their small group of dear friends. This was not the year they were expecting.

* * *

Blaise had heard things about their Seventh Year before he'd even left the kitchen table that morning. He'd been awoken well before six by his mother's newest beau knocking loudly on his door.

"Blaise, your mother's made breakfast. Come down and we'll start the drive to King's Cross."

Blaise didn't understand the early mornings. It had been something his mother had done every year - once a year they awoke before dawn. His mother made breakfast for the only morning of the 365 days of the year. Blaise readied himself for his departure, and they took a muggle car all the way to London. He supposed it was to spend more time with him before letting him go. The sentiment would be the only thing she'd really focused on Blaise since he was an infant. Still, he grudgingly showered, dressed, and headed down the lavish staircase to find the pair of them seated at the table, speaking openly about a Ministry takeover of Hogwarts.

"They're weeding out all of the blood traitors and mudbloods. Should have always been such, but not all of the founders were as brilliant and forward thinking as our Slytherin. Good morning, Blaise. Dear sit and have some breakfast, we have to leave soon so you don't miss the train."

She batted her eyelashes and zoomed over a heaping plate of his breakfast favorites. This would be the one thing he would miss about his flirtatious, overbearing, ridiculous mother while he was at Hogwarts - she made an amazing egg's benedict.

"Did you hear, Blaise? About the ministry stepping in? They've, well, 'talked' a little since into Thicknesse. Apparently, throwing him in instead of that old bat Scrimgeour wasn't enough. Thicknesse was still insistent on keeping things 'neutral'. To hell with neutral, they imperiused him and that's that. He ordered a complete reform of rules around Hogwarts - you'll hear more about them today, I'm sure. But really, it's just the ministry finally bringing a real order to things around there. It was much too relaxed anyway. Juice?"

"None, thanks. What kinds of things have you been hearing?" Before he could finish his statement, however, his mother was back to chatting up her fiancee, soon to be husband number eight.

The excitement in the compartment that housed his friends was almost tangible, flowing out of Draco's face and filling the train. The train was slowing already, preparing for the inevitable stop at Hogwarts. It had been on Blaise's mind to not return at all - he only needed the books, and his mother never worked a day in her life. He could stay home, finish his education, and be done with it all. The houses, the debauchery, the nonsense. And yet he was sitting between Pansy and Daphne, across from Draco himself, the little compartment of Slytherin seventh years full of much too much excitement. After changing into robes and exiting the train, Blaise was amazed Draco hadn't stopped blabbing on long enough to ask agreement of him yet. Normally, the blonde turned to Blaise expecting an 'of course, Draco' nearly every ten minutes. Tonight had not been the same. During the entire day, in fact, Blaise remembered saying very little, only sitting back and watching.

His people watching landed his eyes on a familiar Gryffindor face. Hermione Granger was standing, quite alone, amongst a throng of first years begging her attention or asking stupid questions about bathrooms. Blaise saw her face for a few seconds at most - her eyes were closed, lips slightly parted, a flush just starting to fill her cheeks. They'd just arrived, and she already looked like closing her eyes was the only way to keep her sanity. Blaise understood the sentiment, and turned to his friends to pack into one of the many carriages already starting up to the castle.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Hey there! Readers of all levels of obsession and fan-ness, I have a little update for you. I was only going to start two new stories, and then I was going to start updating my old fics. Okay, been there done that. This is one of my two new ones, and I've returned work on EY, LBL, TT, and almost on AVMC2. So what now? I'm updating every other day or so on two fics minimum. And I've decided that I need to write even MORE. For any of you that have alerts on me or like my fics at all, this is good news, as I'm going to start THREE new fics, very soon. I'm starting a Dramione, and two H/Hr. I'm really, really excited about all of these, and I'm hoping at least a few of you are slightly pleased as well. Anyway, this is the next chapter, stuff is really changing at Hogwarts, blah blah blah. I also realized that if the Trio were to be at Hogwarts for the first part of the year, that they would then need to have a way to keep Voldemort out, or else what would stop him from just jumping in and saying a little hello... and trying to kill Harry. I'll work that out for you in this chapter and the next. Enjoy. **

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**The Great Hall was filled, but silent. The whispers drifting between groups of students, between houses, gave the effect of wind being blown throughout. There was talk - suspicions, guesses, anything - about what may be happening. It had become common knowledge to Slytherin's, whose parents were most excited about the developments, that the ministry under the Imperiused Thicknesse was stepping in on operations at Hogwarts. Blaise sat between Draco, whose mother had told him even more than Blaise's own mother had told him, and heard all about the plans for Hogwarts. There would be stricter entrance standards, a complete remodeling of the educational system, and harsher punishments for those who attempted to resist the change. There was only one thing that Draco wished to not speak of for a while - the fact that while the Dark Lord was essentially in charge, he could not yet figure a way to lift the charms and enchantments that protected Hogwarts from his entering. There was something that the old man Dumbledore had done to this place before he left, though none of them were sure how he'd done it.

Blaise took another forkful of food, large enough to keep him chewing for several minutes. To be quite honest, he didn't give a damn what was happening at Hogwarts. He didn't want to be there. He didn't want to hear Draco babbling on about the 'privileged information' dear Mummy had filled him in on. He was done with the Death Eater-as-a-close-friend deal. To be honest, he'd been getting the feeling lately that running off, out of country, would be a brilliant idea. Things were calmer overseas...

"Don't you think so Blaise?" Draco's usual smirk was plastered across his pale face, the platinum blonde hair slicked back. Pansy was hanging off his side and the entire Slytherin table was hanging on his every word, and on the response from Blaise. The usual first move was to agree, regardless of nature, but...

"Think what? I wasn't really listening. Kind of boring."

Immediately, faces around the Slytherin table began laughing or whispering to each other. One of the precious Malfoy's closest friends, not really listening? What a scandal. _What a joke._ The shock, however, spread like wildfire, across four long tables. _Did you see that? Did you hear it?_ Blaise felt smug, but he dare not show it to the Slytherin sitting at the table as if it were his throne. Perhaps keeping a lower profile this year was exactly the way to make it pass by as quickly as possible.

As no one had stood to make an opening speech - everyone at least expected McGonagall to stand and say something - most students retired to their dormitories early. Blaise turned down a late walk around the castle with his usual friends to instead get a book from the library and lay around on his bed. As he walked through the large doors and into the dimly lit room, something about Hogwarts felt the same as it always had. There were students scattered around the cubicles and nooks around the room, a book open or a piece of fresh parchement in front of them. What with the mostly empty hallways, quiet Feast, and talk of ministry involvement, this was the only place that Blaise had been so far that appeared to not be affected at all. He browsed the shelves for a few moments before finally selecting a volume on ministry politics and theories, something he'd been at least slightly interested in before the ministry changed. Upon taking it to Madame Pince, however, he saw a set of small hands grasping the exact same book just beside him. He watched as they set the book down gingerly and stepped back half a step, waiting for Pince to check it out. He dared himself to look at who it was holding it, and found himself staring at Hermione Granger. He'd never taken her for much of a debater, for anyone particularly interested in government or anything like it. This was interesting. She seemed to only realize that the same book was beside her once she'd already sensed he'd been staring at her for a few moments.

"Interesting, Zabini. As far as I'd heard, you Slytherins know plenty about what's happening at the ministry. Or are you just too thick to understand what Draco's spitting at you?"

The sting of her insult was welcome. He'd never been personally shunned by Hermione Granger, and while the connotation was all negative, he smiled. She looked at him as if he'd just started dancing in the middle of the library.

"Always been interested in politics. Particularly ministry dealings pre-1970. I know mostly nothing, and I don't care much about whatever Draco was ambling on about."

She eyed him curiously, but did not walk away when her turn was done and he was next to check out his book. "So I heard. It's like a disaster around school when somebody is found to _not_ be hanging off Draco's every word."

"Welcome to my life, Granger. I don't think I've paid more attention to him than a vegetarian to a steak since our second year."

"Interesting. Blaise, if you don't mind my asking, what's your opinion on the whole ministry involvement?"

He felt himself grinning. Madame Pince was eyeing them with such curiosity she looked as if she might explode from the excitement. Hermione nodded and noticed as well, and the pair walked quickly to the back of the library.

"Personally, _Hermione_, I know I'm _supposed_ to loathe you. I know I'm supposed to sneer and talk trash because you're not pureblood. I know that my standing, my place in the hierarchy that is the new regime, should matter to me. Hell, it should be the only thing that matters to me. But I couldn't care less."

Hermione cocked her head to the side. He wondered to himself if he'd ever seen her this enthralled in a subject, knowing her as she was. He decided he hadn't. Maybe he liked that.

* * *

Hermione could not believe who she was sitting across from. Well, it wasn't as if they could see each other very well anyway. There was a twelve inch divider separating the two of them, between facing seats. They were meant as a quiet place to study, but were currently being used as the place where she and Blaise Zabini could talk in an otherwise uninhabited corner of the library and discuss politics. Yes, this year was going to be strange. He'd just told her that he didn't care about his social standing, however, and that was perhaps the most interesting thing she'd heard all night - and she'd heard a lot of things.

"That's interesting. Strange, even. From what I've seen, anyone who isn't accidentally shouting out a death wish by admitting they're not pureblood is probably shouting out just how pure their blood is, just how important their parents are."

"And that's why I have no place here. I'm pureblood, but my father is unknown and my mother is, well, how she is. Not important. So where do I fit in?"

"Well, you're a Slytherin. That counts for something, I assume. As soon as the ministry comes in - and you know it'll be the corrupt ones - Slytherin will rule the school. I have no doubts about it. You have the most purebloods, the most wealthy families... and those who aren't pureblood in Slytherin are probably lying about it anyway."

She saw Blaise peer at her over the short wall, his eyes narrowing. "That's probably true. Why are you still here, then? Why aren't you hiding?"

"In all honesty, we had no idea before this that there would be any ministry involvement. Ron's dad works for it, and he heard nothing. It's all, well, I assume you know who's taking control of it."

"Of course. And why isn't noble, valiant Potter out there trying to stop him?"

"That's information I can't share with you." Hermione thought of the Horcruxes, about why they weren't looking for them now. The three of them knew ways out of Hogwarts. They could leave when they were prepared. But sharing this information with Blaise Zabini, someone who she was supposed to despise as much as he was to her, was probably not a good idea, regardless of their new, strange status as acquainted.

"That's fine. I didn't expect you would. Do you even have ideas?"

"Yes. But no real leads." Conversation fell before she decided to speak again. "Blaise, what's with the sudden change of heart? As far as I've seen, even if you don't listen to Draco, you always walk around with them, always sit with them. Except for the commotion at dinner, I don't think I've ever heard you speak ill of him."

He was silent, and she was afraid she'd asked too much of him. However, at the end of a minute, he spoke.

"Do you hear what you're asking, though? Where had my allegiance to Draco gone? That's exactly why it _is_ gone. Because it isn't just house exclusivity, it's the usual house rivalry, escalated. And on top of that, everyone seems to center things on Draco. As far as I know, Draco is not Headmaster of Hogwarts, and who says he's the one in charge of anything? It's all school rubbish. Drama. Petty drama. I almost didn't come back to Hogwarts because of it."

"And what would you have done?" She was curious now. The tone in Blaise's voice was not angry, not jealous or bitter, just honest. He honestly believed everything he'd been saying.

"Had my mum finish teaching me. She's actually a decent witch I guess. At least I wouldn't have had to be here."

Hermione couldn't tell how to feel about this. The pair sat silently, mulling over the conversation they'd just had and the fact that they'd had it at all. Before Hermione could ask another question or be asked one in turn, Blaise stood and held the book identical to hers against his side.

"Granger. Tomorrow. Same time and place." He gave her a mock salute and walked backwards for a few steps, smiling as he went. She gave him a startled, dazed half-salute as well before realizing that she'd spent time in the library with Blaise Zabini, and hadn't even opened the front cover of the book she'd checked out an hour before.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Antsy to get started writing. Don't bother me with your need for an AN, hmph. Just kidding. But seriously. I'll write at the end. **

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**All Hermione could think was that there was blood on her robes. It was her only clean set of school robes, and there was blood. On the sleeve, on front. Blood. Hermione had never, ever been good with blood. Not when she'd gotten papercuts from new books, on countless occasions. Not when Ron had splinched himself slightly learning to apparate. Not when Harry had frequently injured himself, or when Draco had broken his nose getting off the train in sixth year. Hermione usually felt queasy at the mere sight of blood, and nearly fainted half the time if it touched her. This time, it had completely soaked through her sleeve. The front of her robes were safe, perhaps, because of the undershirt which she wore. It was a thick sweater. She'd been cold.

_"Crucio!" _

There was nothing but pain - sharp pain, covering every inch of her body, centered around her heart. She thought she'd never breathe again, she thought she'd never feel herself touch the floor, but there it was - and she came crashing into it like she'd been thrown into it. She had been, essentially. The malformed sneer of Alecto Carrow spread across her face, and it didn't make her any more attractive. In fact, if Hermione were thinking clearly, she'd tell herself to remember that looking at the disgusting face of her tormentor made her frightened, made her feel like resisting, but above all, it rose her self-confidence considerably.

"Now, you little brat. Tell me what you know."

This was not the first time she'd heard this question, that she'd felt this pain. Not the first time ever, not the first time even in the last three days. Alecto held a 'soft spot' for Hermione, as she called it. And the previous two weeks of these 'detentions' had proved her right. Yes, she saved Hermione from detentions in which she'd be hit with the unforgivable by snivelling, arse-kissing Slytherins. But she only did so to draw her into her own office, or into an empty classroom, and do the deed herself. Hermione figured it was time to at least attempt to end it. It had always been a skill of hers - making up short, believable stories on the spot. It had saved them from trouble multiple times before, even if usually, the listener found out in the end. Umbridge in year five... the list was too long for her to bring up. Her head was pounding. And there was even more blood. With a sigh, she rolled her head to the side. She'd let out two truths and a lie. It worked nearly every time.

"Alright. We know that Voldemort has taken control of the ministry. We knew they've imperiused Thicknesse to do his bidding. And we know that you're here on special orders - to kill Harry."

Alecto shook her head and laughed that awful laugh again. Honestly, Hermione had felt the pain of the Cruciatus curse through every fibre of her being - but the laugh of Alecto Carrow made her ears burn worse even than the Crucio she'd _just_ taken.

"You stupid, insolent girl. We're not here to kill him - if we could, we would. But it seems Dumbledore has put some kind of protection on Harry, or that someone here from the ministry does. Harry would have been dead the moment he stepped on the train, if it weren't for someone protecting him."

Luckily for Hermione, Alecto seemed to have split a single brain with her brother Amycus. She also seemed to have gotten the smaller end.

"But please, professor - how could that be?"

Alecto did what Hermione could only describe as a growl, and threw a paperweight across the room. It shattered, and Hermione wondered which old professor it had belonged to. It was a shame.

"We were sent here on ministry orders to control the school. You and your little friends showed up, and for some reason we can't _touch_ Potter. Literally. Amycus tried grabbing his shirt collar yesterday- "

_And he couldn't catch it._ The thought came to Hermione's mind immediately only because Harry had brought it up before. She'd have to remember that.

"-and couldn't. There's obviously someone working very, very hard to protect him. You obviously didn't deserve the same treatment. Go run and tell your little friend he's safe - but only for now. We're going to find a way around this and we're going to murder him in his sleep, but not until after he's conscious enough to see you and the Weasley boys corpses. Get out."

Hermione wrenched open the door and ran, the sudden excitement of freedom pushing her every step of the way. She'd been in the abandoned room for nearly an hour, and she'd had the curse used on her four times. Each time, Alecto rubbed it in, made the pain worse, sent another jinx her way to make her move too much or feel too much, or anything too much. She stopped - she had been heading towards her dormitory, towards her warm bed, but realized the time - it was eight-fifteen. She usually saw Blaise at the Library around seven-thirty, for at least an hour... perhaps he was still there. Ron and Harry had been sent off for 'extra detentions' for mouthing off in Amycus' class. As they couldn't touch Harry, they'd sent him that way, but for some reason Snape had insisted that Ron be sent with him, instead of enduring the Cruciatus. Hermione didn't bother asking - Ron would end up in her situation soon enough. She turned around immediately and headed towards the Library.

Snape. The sound of the name brought bile to her mouth and threatened to combine with her post-curse feelings and make her sick all over the hallway. She'd probably just earn another detention for it. After Dumbledore's passing last year, it was McGonagall's rightful place as Deputy Headmistress to take over until the school board of trustees could make a decision on who to make Headmaster that year. Everyone had assumed it would be McGonagall - surely, she was the best for the job - but then the ministry had stepped in...

And Ron. That name... she didn't feel anything when she thought it. The previous summer had been awkward. Ron was immature, she'd always known that. But even with his growing up a little the previous year, he still acted a fool most of the time. Hermione still rolled her eyes or shook her head at nearly everything he did. She liked him, of course she liked him - she'd always held affections for Ron. But he still acted like a third year on most occasions, and despite her long-time feelings for Ron, she needed someone more mature. She still couldn't keep negative feelings for Ron Weasley for more than a minute and a half. He was, after all, still one of her best friends. And he understood that along with her. Even if once or twice this year so far, or just, sometimes, she resented him for being let off easy on detentions. Why was it that she was the only one who'd endured the cruciatus more than twice out of the three of them?

As she turned the corner and into the welcoming doors of the library, Hermione panicked for a moment - she didn't see his tall, muscular frame leaning against a bookshelf, or a long leg sticking out from between two rows or under a desk. She only had to look a moment more, though. He was sitting in the same Library cubby they'd sat at on the first night.

* * *

"Zabini." He didn't jump. Her voice was soothing, even when it sounded shaken. In class, it sounded harsh - shrill even, at times. But outside, when the world had tired her, that same voice was smoother. It was gentle. He had to admit that what made him see her again after that first night was her obvious change in appearance, and the soft quality of her voice. He finished a paragraph while beginning to look over the divider between them.

"Granger. What took you so- "

He probably should have looked first. Hell, she didn't look like she'd look in a mirror before she'd come to the Library at all, but who had the nerve to look in a mirror after detentions like that"

"Detention. As usual." She sat down and was silent for the first five minutes. He spent the time studying her, and if she felt his eyes on her or thought it awkward, she didn't show a sign. Her face had changed, over the summer. She'd lost a little weight, and she'd always been lean, almost awkwardly so. She looked - _hollow _was the first word that came to mind, but that was only a fit description of her cheekbones. She'd been stressed, that much he could tell. She had small worry lines on her forehead. On other nights, she'd come in and he'd noticed that she had nice skin. Not tan, but not terribly pale either. She had a dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose that Blaise was only able to barely see with his perfect vision. She had a small birthmark on her jaw, a small brown mark that was only visible when she turned her head to one side and the light shone just right. She wasn't the most attractive woman he'd ever seen - not by a long shot. But he had always found her appearance to be pleasing - moreso since she'd learned to tame her unruly head of curls. She was, in his own terms - interestingly watchable.

Tonight, however, her face was marred. He hadn't known she had detention - normally, if she saw him in passing and saw it fit, she'd make a grim face as they got near enough to reach out. He always understood what this meant. _I'll be late._ There was a large mark over her left eye, which was swollen slightly shut. The left side of her face was covered in blood, as was most of her clothing and neck. her upper lip was cut open and still slightly bleeding. There was a definite bruise on her cheek. And her left jaw was swelling slightly. This was the worst he'd seen her yet.

"You need to go to the Hospital Wing for that. You're bleeding."

"And I've bled before, Blaise. It's nothing terribly new." She sighed, and it was the saddest sigh he'd ever heard. Her voice was gravelly - stiff. He didn't like it.

"At least let me fix you up. Pince won't be happy if you get your book soggy and red." The side of his mouth curled up for a moment, just the slight bit that hers did and no more.

"I can always charm it off... it's not difficult really. I had to do it a few days ago."

The fact that she said it so calmy bothered him, though he couldn't place the bitter feeling he found himself directing towards the incident. It was still Granger, but she _had_ been the force keeping him sane. Well, technically it was the library itself. Granger was an added bonus - an intellectual, intellingent being that he sometimes met in corners to converse with. And now she had blood on her face. The year at Hogwarts had not been kind to her as of late. She'd been given 'detentions' nearly every other day by Alecto Carrow. Her little friends were similarly picked out by Amycus. It seemed that while Potter had obvious protection on him, the pair would stop at nothing to at least make his year miserable - and apparently, the Weasley boy's and hers as well. She let her head turn down, concentrating hard on the book beneath her.

Keeping his head down, Blaise slipped his wand from his sleeve, pointed it through the divider, and thought a silent incantation. The blood disappeared, and her wounds began slowly healing. Her face was probably already throbbing, but anything more, and she would have felt it. He stowed his wand and continued reading, occasionally asking Hermione questions. Her answers were quick, to the point, and almost cold. She'd had a hard night.

"Personally, Granger, I'm near exhausted. It's late. You should get some sleep as well."

She only nodded in response. He felt disappointment in the fact that he'd never see her surprised face when she went to check her face and found no blood and nearly no cuts left.


	5. Chapter 5

Hermione wasn't upset, really. She couldn't be mad at the face that remained in her mind throughout the day. _Blaise._ She plucked through her brain for an accurate phrase to describe him, and could only settle on an old Muggle phrase - _tall, dark, and handsome. _He was, of course, good looking - any female at Hogwarts could plainly see that. In fact, she'd easily observed a gaggle of young Slytherin girls eyeing him and whispering to each other just the day previous. It wasn't that she found _him_ particularly attractive - though he was - but that she found the idea of him to be better than anything that had happened since the war. She thought back on the times - her and Ron's inevitable fallout,

"You healed me."

"That I did, and you're welcome."

"I told you I could do it myself."

"Personally, I thought you deserved a little help. Alecto has been hard on you, it wasn't your duty to go back to your dormitory and have to fix yourself. I took care of it."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you being so kind to me? Why fix my wounds? Why meet with me, every night? Why any of this?"

"I've told you that, Granger. I don't care about blood status. I don't care about Draco and his little games, and neither do you, because you're intelligent. And because you're intelligent, I can also converse with you the details on the Ministry elections of 1962."

"Blaise, I don't care about the Ministry elections right now."

"Even though Nobby Leach was elected Minister? Come on, Hermione. Take your mind off it. Converse with me. I doubt you get the same thrilling, brain-tingling conversation with Potter or Weasley."

She saw the double meaning behind his statement. Well, triple meaning. First, he meant to distract her by talking about a Minister he knew for a fact that she disliked. Second, he was only slightly insulting her friends by doubting their smarts. But third, had he just said their conversation was thrilling?

* * *

"Granger. That'll be detention."

"Go ahead. You'd have given me one anyway."

Twenty-three heads whipped around in Muggle Studies towards Hermione, whose head was lazily hung back on her neck.

"Excuse me, Miss Granger?"

"I said 'go ahead. You'd have given me one anyway.'"

"I am aware of what you said, but I do not feel it was appropriate. It was disrespectful and _wrong._ Muggles are filthy, their bodies are not as clean as ours, their minds are filled with gunk."

"My parents are muggles. And they seem to do alright. I am, to be honest, the brightest witch in this classroom."

"You dare compare your wit to mine?"

"I do. And mine wins."

Hermione felt a sharp jab in her side - Harry had elbowed her, trying to get her to stop.

"That's three detentions then Granger, you can serve the first tonight."

"I'll be there early. You know I love your detentions."

Alecto sneered, continuing her rant on the filth of Muggle London and the people in it. Harry's gaze stayed on hers while the rest of the class looked forward, hoping to not serve the same fate as their classmate.

"What's your problem, Hermione? I've never seen you like this. You know she's just going to give you detentions!"

"I'm aware. But she'd find something for them anyway. She'd comment on my unkempt hair and call it ingorance in grooming standards. She'd comment on sloppy handwriting and say I didn't take my work seriously. She'd notice I haven't been doing my work at all, and that would be messy."

"You're just going to get hurt again, you know that? Do you want to go mad?"

"Not particularly. But while I'm here, I'm pretty much stuck aren't I? If it happens, it happens."

She slowly brought her head back up straight. "And honestly, Harry, you've got detentions every night. You should know, they're unavoidable."

"That doesn't mean you should chase after them."

"But I would be doing myself a disservice by sitting here and accepting them as fate. And that's my point." Her eyes drifted past him to Ron, who was paying attention to the Professor, and back to Harry, who was staring at her as if he was shocked to see the way she'd become.

* * *

"It's been a month. I thought I could just accept defeat and take a few detentions. I'm usually back to normal in a few days afterwards, anyway."

"You shouldn't have to take a few days. You shouldn't have to do this at all. She's only doing this because of your affiliation to Potter and Weasley."

"And because of my blood status. You can't forget that one."

"Of course not. I forgot, blood status is the most important thing in the world right now." Blaise saw Hermione roll her eyes slightly, and knew there was still a spark of her left.

"But really, 'Mione. You shouldn't egg her on. Harry's kind of right, on that point. I don't like seeing you like this."

She looked up, taking in the fine features and smooth, dark skin of her companion.

"Blaise, do you remember the one thing I told you about my political standpoints on regulation of prank objects?"

"I do. You said you didn't care."

"The same sentiments apply to my behavior towards Alecto and Amycus. I just don't care."

He moved his chair around the barrier, around the desk, next to her own. "You can't say that. You can't let them win."

"Then what do I do? I can't stop them from giving me detentions. I can't exactly go beg Snape to let me off the hook, can I?"

"You can't..."

"Blaise, why do I sense a 'but' there?"

"Because you can't. But I can."

"No, you can't. Snape is not going to listen to you for more than ten seconds on the subject of letting me off detentions - he despises me as much if not more than Harry."

"I'm not going to ask him to let you off detentions. I'm going to ask him if I can personally deliver your detentions."

"You've got to be joking."

"He wouldn't suspect a thing. As far as he knows, we barely know each other. I go in, tell him I'm tired of your know-it-all attitude, and I want to personally execute your punishment. Meanwhile, we sit in a deserted classroom and make it look like I've bloodied you up."

"That's ridiculous."

"That's what I'm willing to do."

Before she could ask him why, he stalked away, a determined look on his face. She knew by easy observation that Snape had left the castle earlier that afternoon and would not be back for two days. But that didn't stop Blaise from walking around and planning it out anyway.

* * *

"_Crucio! _That'll teach you to argue with me in class again. Think you're smart, you yeh? Telling me muggles aren't dirty folk? You're wrong, anyway, stupid girl. I've seen 'em myself. Disgusting creatures."

Hermione was huddled on the ground, not bothering to get up. She'd learned that when she moved, the pain was worse. When she was hit after the flood of pain from standing up, it was even worse then. She committed herself to lying on the ground in a heap and staying silent unless asked questions. Just dealing with the pain until she had to leave.

The dungeon to which Alecto had brought Hermione this time was worse than the places they'd been before. It was the lowest ceiling she'd ever seen at Hogwarts, in a small room on the opposite end from the Potions classroom. It was dark - nearly pitch black, save for an odd sort of green lamp in two opposite corners. The light was brightest at the center of the room, where Hermione herself lay on the damp stone ground of the room. It may have been a storage room, for all the boxes and odd bits lining the farthest wall. Alecto sat on an old student's desk nearest one of the lamps, the green light over her head making her look like a monster from a Muggle children's book. She was sneering, cackling, and spitting tonight - a prime example of Alecto's finest curse work.

"Why aren't you talking, Granger? Cat got your tongue?"

Hermione shook her head. "I have nothing to say to you."

"Good. It had better stay that way! _Crucio!_"

Hermione felt her body rise from the stone, and the only thing saving her from the blinding pain throughout her body was the reminder that someone out there intended to save her from all this. Even if that someone was Blaise Zabini.

She fell to the ground again, and a rather large stone smacked the side of her face. Her vision went foggy, she saw red from all directions - she was bleeding profusely.

"I'm going to die if you leave me like this."

"Then I'll heal you up." Alecto slipped down off the desk, toddling over to peer down at Hermione. With a flick of her wand, Hermione felt her face instantly come back together, but not pleasantly - it felt as if she'd been taped and stapled together, just enough to keep her from bleeding out.

"And then I'll continue where I left off. You little piece of mudblood filth, standing up for your disgusting, dirty roots. You've stolen your magic, I'm sure of it, and by the end of three months we'll be able to round you and all your other mudblood filth up here and take care of the lot of you. _CRUCIO!" _

Hermione whimpered as she hit the ground that time - this had been the worst 'detention' yet. She was bleeding from her head, her arm, her knee, and her foot. Her hip may have very well been cracked. Her vision was foggy again. She could feel her bloody, matted hair sticking to her face, the only cushion from the cold stone below. Her knee was swollen, and her wrist was large as well. She looked as if she'd been run over by the Knight Bus a few times, and felt it as well.

She did not dare speak, or even breathe. Alecto rose from the desk, spit on Hermione's sleeve, and stalked out of the classroom, shouting 'you're free to go' behind her. Hermione had never been happier to leave before in her life.

* * *

"Did you ask him?"

"I did. He said he'd think about it."

"Wow."

"I wanted to say the same, but I kept quiet. I pulled the I-Hate-Hermione card and he just grinned and nodded, and told me it was possible. He'd have to make sure I was doing well enough in my classes."

"And are you?"

"Of course I am. Not everyone else here is an idiot, you know. Perhaps I should punish you, just once." He smirked, and she very nearly laughed. The idea of Blaise punishing her for some reason seemed ridiculous - and the idea that it seemed ridiculous was even _more_ ridiculous.

"I know you've told me I shouldn't ask questions. But why, really Blaise? You didn't have to talk to me, or befriend me."

"But we are friends, Granger. To be honest, you're the closest friend I have at Hogwarts, at the moment. And that's why I'm doing it. I befriended you in the first place because you looked like you could use a friend too."

He was healing her wounds now, but slowly. "The bones you'll have to go to Pomfrey for. I'd walk you, but if we're seen together Snape won't let me have it."

"Right. Which numbing charm will work the best?"

He muttered the incantation himself, numbing her hip, arm, and wrist. "That should be enough to get you there. Run along now. I'll talk to Snape again tomorrow."

* * *

"Zabini. Out of bed after hours?"

"I'm sorry, Professor. I was only reading, lost track of time."

"You're out of bed past curfew, is what you are." Amycus Carrow was glaring at him from nearly forty feet away.

"My apologies. I'll return to my dormitory at once."

"With a detention, set for tomorrow. I'll deliver it personally. My office, eight o'clock."

Blaise nodded and turned in the other direction, running as quickly as possible to the dungeons. He'd have to ask Hermione in the morning how best to handle the Cruciatus curse, and he'd have to ask Snape if he could use it on her in turn - sort of.

* * *

**AN: Sorry I've been missing, I've been caught up with NaNoWriMo, which for those of you who don't know is a challenge to write a novel in the month of November. Anyway, you'll see that this story is going to start pretty quickly - Hermione is already doing nasty detentions. She's already friends with Blaise. But in the next chapters, some new things are going to come around - a meeting with Harry and Ron to discuss the possibilities for their Horcrux hunt. Blaise hearing a strange sort of answer from Snape. Blaise's own detention. A hurried, hush meeting between Hermione and Blaise. And much more, coming soon. I really like the potential of this story - a dark romance, a little bit of passion mixed in with a lot of sadness, anger, hurt, and all sorts of badness. It's a bigger glimpse into what happened the first year of their seventh year, and it's going to get a little ugly. Keep reading! Review! Thanks!**


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: Pretty soon I'll start including songs with chapters - things I listened to while writing. If you listen while reading, it can really change the whole feel of a chapter, and pretty soon it's going to get pretty intense. Things are about to start picking up. Sorry this chapter is so short, but Enjoy!**

"You have got to be kidding me!"

"I wish I was, Hermione, but Amycus stopped me last night - you were in the Hospital wing, but I was 'roaming the corridors' or something. I have detention in fifteen minutes."

"And you're asking me how to handle the Cruciatus curse?"

"I don't want to go in unprepared if it's what she uses on me. I've never felt it."

"Alright. First, don't tense up your body, it'll only make the impact of the ground hurt once. Just accept it - it hurts less, I think."

Blaise's hands were on her shoulders, and Hermione found the gesture strange - he was genuinely panicked. He was staring at her intently, hanging off her every word, trying to catch the bit of information that would make his detention with Amycus slightly more bearable. She gave him everything she knew - relaxing, counting, try not to let your head hit the stone floor. Don't speak unless spoken to. Don't challenge any of it. Don't suck up. And just pray for the end to come quickly.

The way she'd said the last part moved something in him - _pray for the end to come quickly._ He knew she hadn't meant it in the lethal context he'd heard, but the idea still scared him - her tone of voice scared him. She sounded defeated, weak, and absolutely empty. Where had the girl gone from Potions classes in years previous? Where was the nearly obnoxious, absolutely annoying, witty, sharp-tongued girl of their youth? He shook his head, then nodded. She'd stopped talking nearly a minute ago, and he hadn't really noticed. "Right. I'll do it." He let go and set off down the hall quickly, hoping that he'd survive long enough to remember to thank her.

* * *

"Do you realize what this means?" Hermione sat opposite Harry and Ron in front of the fireplace of the Gryffindor common room. They'd been in the middle of a chess match when she'd flown in from the portrait hole and demanded they stop what they were doing for a minute.

"They can't touch me, like at all?"

"Alecto reached out to grab your collar once and couldn't get to it - Dumbledore or someone else has powerful protective spells set on you. Neither of the Carrows can touch you - it might be an Untouchable Charm set against Death Eaters, magic wouldn't be able to reach you that way either, I've been going through possibilities in my head... I think it's why they send you into the Forbidden Forest for detentions, instead of giving you detention like mine."

"That would make sense. They have to do something - as much as they can. I only see one problem - why would they send Ron with me? Why not give him detentions like yours?"

She noticed his careful, delicate avoidance of the subject of her detentions - the Cruciatus curse. "Isn't it obvious? They can't punish both of us and let you off easy - we'd guess too easily. But if they put both of you together and put me off separately... it'll just look like Amycus has a special hatred for me."

The trio sat in silence, letting the news soak in. Somehow, the Carrows had already let one of their secrets slip. Unfortunately, it didn't help them in the slightest.

"'Mione, there's really nothing we can do, though." Harry looked at his feet - he wished he hadn't noticed it.

"I'm fine where I am - I can handle it. I've been doing it nearly every other night for a month. The both of you need to just keep at what you're doing too - we can't let them know we've really figured it out completely."

"You can't! They're torturing you." Ron looked up, finally speaking - he wasn't happy with Hermione's detention, and he was obviously ready to show it.

"I have to, Ron. If they know we know, they could try to find a way around it - our first priority is to keep Harry alive."

The solemn realization reached them all - gone were their innocent school days, gone was the goal of trying to get good marks in their classes or trying to win the House Cup. This year, it was all about staying alive and keeping their secret before they left. Looking up, they all nodded. They knew what had to happen.

* * *

She was muttering incantations before Blaise had even fully reached their nook in the corner. His face hadn't been nearly as bad as her own, but he still grimaced as he felt his skin reconnecting, the blood being siphoned off his face.

"They went easy on you."

"I know. She only used it twice, I got really lucky - nothing like what you've had to deal with."

"I assumed as much - you're not directly involved with Harry."

Blaise eyed her, and she rolled her eyes. "Not _that_ kind of involved. Harry's... a mess. I'm sure you knew about he and Ginny."

"We all did."

"They're barely speaking. It's been a tough year on them."

"Ouch."

"Ron's a disaster too - he wants Hogwarts to be like it was, and he just keeps hoping it'll go back to normal instead of growing up and facing the truth - things are changing and it's up to us to save everything, again."

She immediately covered her mouth with her hand. She couldn't believe she'd just said all those things aloud, but a smile crept up on Blaise's face. "No, it's good to hear. Let it out - who am I going to tell?"

She considered the options - but Blaise didn't seem to be the type, from what she'd learned about him and personally experienced. "Fine. It's just terrible, Harry wants to get out and finish the job, go off on this journey Dumbledore has for us, but we don't know very much at all about what we're supposed to do. Ron doesn't want to see the reality of everything. And me, I'm not much help anyway. Nothing about this can be learned from books."

"It can, though. Have you studied Grindelwald?"

"Of course I have."

"He was a dark wizard, the height of his power was in 1945, I believe. Our very own Dumbledore defeated him - sometimes, studying similar feats can inspire action."

She couldn't see how the two were immediately related, but she rose, walking away and returning with three volumes on Dark Wizards. She flipped through pages until just before curfew, and Blaise watched her sliently. He had partially been making things up - but the theory sounded like it might work, and she could perhaps find at least a little inspiration in the defeat of Grindelwald. She left the books on a shelf nearby and got ready to leave, but Blaise grabbed her wrist.

"I don't think it's adviseable that we continue in the library."

He saw her face fell, and quickly corrected himself.

"I mean, inside the library. Too many people could see us. Meet me just inside the edge of the forest tomorrow, I'm sure you know how to sneak out of the castle by now."

She nodded. "Towards the lake, just to be specific. There's a lot of forest."

"There's a large tree on that side. I'll see you tomorrow."

She pulled away finally, asking herself how on earth she'd come to be disappointed when Blaise had said they stop - why had it upset her? What was it about him that made Hermione feel so... relaxed, at ease? Comfortable? Something.


	7. Chapter 7

The time had come for Hermione to step outside. She'd been waiting for the perfect moment - not many people in the Entrance Hall, no professors around, no chance to be asked 'Where are you going?'. She couldn't even risk Harry and Ron knowing about her little adventure - the fact that she was meeting, in secret, with a Slytherin, who was close to Malfoy, was bound to upset them. So she set off, jacket pulled tight around her, head down, and hoped for the best. She'd decided to get there early - nearly an hour early - to enjoy a little free time around the grounds. It was something she used to love to do with Harry and Ron - take a walk around the lake, by Hagrid's, or around the edge of the forbidden forest. And she hadn't been able to do it so far this year, for obvious reasons.

She sat down beside a tree, hiding behind it and facing away from the school. He'd find her here, he knew where to look. They'd made explicit plans the day before, and she had nothing left now but to wait the remaining time by herself. It had been One month, one week, and three days. How had she come to spend as much of that time with her best friends, as with someone who used to be the enemy? Someone who she used to hate, just for the sake of hating another Slytherin? It had started with a book, of course. On politics. Wizarding Politics, of course, pre-1970, centered around doubts about the ministry. The very same book she'd just brought up to Pince, was beside her own. And none would have been more shocked than her to see Blaise holding it.

And now, she was meeting him in the Forbidden Forest, with no one else around. It sounded to be one of two things - dangerous, or... well, something else entirely. The thought made her blush. Before she had a chance to even shake the thought from her head, however, Blaise walked in, leaning his tall frame against the tree trunk and looking down at her.

"Granger. You were early, obviously."

"I just came out... for the quiet."

"It's nice out here, I'll admit. But it's starting to get a bit cold."

"I have a jacket."

"And no offense, but it looks like it isn't nearly warm enough." He slid down next to her, and she realized with a start that it was the closest they'd ever been. His arm and leg were flush with hers, his face just inches from her own.

"Y-Yes. I suppose I would get a new coat on the Hogsmeade trip next weekend if I had a little more money. I had to use a little... new quills and things. I'm low until Christmas."

"It's going to be a cold winter." A smirk drew on his face, and he tilted his head back, looking through the leaves above their heads. "I've always enjoyed the forest. It's quiet, like you said, but there's something else about it. Something about it not being the same stone walls we're trapped in all the time."

"I'd rather be safely trapped inside stone walls than anywhere else, really. The rest of the world..."

"Is in great danger. I know. Isn't that scary to think about? I mean, Death Eaters are roaming cities right now, taking down those who stand in their way. And for what? Well, not for what. But really they're upsetting everything. Pulling more attention to themselves. Causing fear. I suppose it is nice to be cooped up in old Hogwarts right now."

"Safest place for us, you know."

"Speaking of safe... I had another meeting with the Headmaster. Snape called me into his office this morning."

"What?"

"He said he'd thought over my proposal. And that he thought it was an excellent idea. From now on, anyone may issue you detention or punishment, but it is to be completely carried out bymyself. He said it would make you fear me more. Scare a little sense into you."

"Is he really that thick?"

"I suppose so. You know what this means, don't you?"

"I don't have to feel the Cruciatus Curse for detentions anymore. Oh god, Blaise, thank you."

Without thinking she wrapped her arms around him, and he carefully extracted his own to place them around her. The gesture was strange, but not unwelcome. The unlikely pair sat in each other's warmth for a few minutes more, perhaps before beginning a thrilling discussion on ministry involvement or old politics or policies.

* * *

"Granger?"

"1912."

"1912, _what_?"

"Just 1912."

Amycus glared at her again, slowly walking towards her. Muggle studies was becoming a disaster - she knew all about Muggles before, her parents were muggles - but Amycus' syllabus was entirely different. So was her preferred way to state your answer. "I believe, mudblood, that you should have said '1912, _Professor_. That'll be a detention. I'll see you tonight after classes. Right here."

Someone cleared their throat - loudly - in the back of the room. Every head in the room whipped around to look at Blaise, a nonchalant look on his elegant features. "Actually, Professor, Headmaster Snape has allowed a special set of rules for Granger. I am to handle all of her punishments for the rest of the year. Her detentions, lines, etc."

"You think you get that job, eh? That's _my_ job. I'll just call Snape in meself. He'll tell you!" She scribbled something on a bit of parchment, and once she let it go it zoomed out of the classroom and down the hall. Hermione had to resist smiling - Blaise wouldn't really punish her, he was saving her, but her classmates and friends around her were whispering. What special hatred did Blaise have for Hermione? So much so that Snape would allow him to administer ALL of her punishments? They'd find out now. Snape had taken only the time it took for Amycus to talk about filthy Muggles for three minutes before he strode through the door.

"Is there a problem, Amycus?"

"The Zabini boy says you given him the punishments for the mudblood."

"For Miss Granger, yes. I have given that authority to him on his special request. He seems to have an old wound to repay, and so he has the year to do it. I have the utmost trust in him and his... abilities. Have you reason to give the girl detention?"

"She was mouthing off to me in front of the students."

"Then Blaise will handle it. I'll inform the other Professors as well. Amycus, next time someone has gotten explicit permission from me, do not challenge it. What student would dare say it if it were not true? Please stop wasting everyone's time. Zabini will handle it."

The room had gone stone silent. Had Snape really just put down Amycus like that? It took everything in Hermione not to smile now, or even to laugh - despite it being Snape who gave the edict, it was the statement that would probably save her sanity.

* * *

"Blaise, you could have gotten us both found out!"

"I had to. I couldn't try and wait to go see Snape, what if he wasn't in his office?"

"That's true, I suppose. And Amycus' face..."

"It was brilliant, wasn't it?"

"It took everything in me not to smile, or laugh, or cry or something! Brilliant. I still can't believe you got Snape to agree to this." She gestured around her to the room they found themselves in - under Hermione's suggestion, they'd entered the Room of Requirement, filling it with comforts and a small kitchen set to keep them happy for the hour and a half detention she had to 'endure'.

"It was easier than you think, really. Come over here."

He was sitting on a remarkably soft couch next to the fire, and he beckoned her to jump off her stool in the small kitchen to join him. She obliged, and found herself being pulled even closer into Blaise, who smoothed a hand over her hair and wrapped an arm around her middle. She wasn't sure where either of them had gotten the idea that the other was romantically interested, but somehow the idea finally grew into both of their heads that night, sitting at the fronts of their minds and taunting them individually.

_Great. _Hermione rolled her eyes as Blaise pressed his lips to the top of her head. _Now I'm really fraternizing with the enemy. Well, not really the enemy, I suppose..._

The hour and a half came to an end, but Blaise put a hand on Hermione's shoulder. "We need to make it look like I actually punished you. You need bruises and things."

"How?"

"I looked a few things up. I'll give you two new bruises and a little cut, nothing serious but enough for anyone who needs to believe it. Each one will feel like a little slap."

"Alright."

She braced for pain, but none came - just a slight stinging sensation on her shoulder and a little poking feeling along her forehead. Blaise pointed his wand at her jawline next, holding her jaw with one hand and stooping low until they were face to face. "This one may hurt a tad more. On the face, and everything." _Falsifrendo. _The stinging feeling was back, but she was immediately jolted into another odd feeling - that of Blaise pressing his lips forcefully to hers, closing his eyes tight and holding her jaw still. Her eyes fluttered open as he pulled away, smiling. "There's your punishment, Granger."

The door opened before them, the room they'd just inhabited disappearing before their eyes. She looked at him and smirked. "I didn't hate it."

He smiled again, walking backwards down the hall with a grimace. "Hope your detention taught you a lesson, Granger."

She frowned, touching her cheek. "Of course, Blaise. Of course." She could have sworn she saw him wink between crowds of students headed to dinner as he turned to leave her.

* * *

"That's rubbish! I knew Snape was low, but I didn't know he'd stoop far enough to allow a student to punish another student exclusively."

"Honestly, Harry, I'd rather have Blaise do it than Amycus. He... doesn't have as much practice as she does with Unforgivables."

She couldn't tell them the truth - if they knew he wasn't really punishing her, they'd suspect something, and they'd ask questions. She was lucky enough, she had to let it go.

"I still think he shouldn't be hurting you, 'Mione. Look at this bruise on your jaw! It looks like he grabbed you here. Did he grab you?"

"No, that one actually... wasn't that bad." Again, it took everything in Hermione to keep from smiling despite their current situation. _No, that one didn't hurt at all. _


	8. Chapter 8

They'd now spent three detentions together - as long as Blaise was leaving false cuts on her face, nobody even doubted the fact that Blaise was using the Cruciatus curse on her - or worse. Hermione attempted to reassure her friends that detentions with Blaise weren't as bad as they were with Amycus - and because she couldn't really tell them the whole truth, she was forced to listen to their bickering and planning to try and get her out of it. She sat by in silence, only infrequently insisting that the two boys should stop their nonsense and focus on their studies - if there was one trait that would convince them that Hermione was alright, it was her bookwormish quality.

Blaise hadn't tried to kiss her again, and she was glad for it. It wasn't that she hadn't enjoyed it the first time - she really, really had - but it was still almost too strange to be believable. Blaise? Kiss Hermione? Even to Hermione herself, who had experienced it firsthand, it seemed preposterous. He was, however, growing on her - It took a month and a half and countless detentions full of the Cruciatus curse, but once Blaise had taken over her 'punishments' and since they'd continued their stolen moments in the forest, she had to admit that those romantic feelings were growing. But how, in the midst of things, had such a great, unexpected thing blossomed?

Hermione found herself pondering the possible reasons on her way to Arithmancy that afternoon when she spotted him down the hall - he'd been speaking to Malfoy and had turned away looking irritated, even worried, before spotting her himself. They had run into each other in the hallways before, but it was his silent, implied sense of urgency that had her wondering. They walked towards each other in the busy hallway, and turned to look at each other just before passing.

"Granger."

"Zabini."

They passed just close enough to touch, at such a distance that made Hermione all too aware of the feel of his rough thumb rubbing against her jaw when he kissed her, and the immediate gratification that it brought her. Maybe she wouldn't mind if he kissed her again. Just maybe.

Just an hour later, students crowding into the Great Hall for their silent, fearful dinner, he saw her again. She was just a few feet from her, and he closed the distance quickly, grabbing her around the arm to make anyone around them think he had caused her pain with it.

_"Our tree. Eleven tonight. I won't sleep if you won't sleep." _

The whisper in her ear sent shivers down her spine. It was past curfew, and the possibility of being caught and punished occurred to her - but then again, it was this admirer who was administering her punishments, and if it was anything like their kiss, she wouldn't mind it at all.

* * *

He'd been waiting nearly half an hour, under the concealing shade of the largest tree. He would admit, he'd shown up a bit early - but Granger being late was unusual. Hell, Granger being anything but early was nearly a catastrophe. He waited another minute or two before walking towards the castle again - the watch on his wrist showed eleven-twenty, and he couldn't wait outside forever. It was just after stepping out from the shadows that he saw her, suddenly just thirty feet from him.

"Get back in the dark! Filch is out around the perimeter, we'd better hide."

She stuffed something into her bag - what looked like a cloak - and grabbed his hand, leading him a bit farther into the forest.

"I had enough detentions in here when I was younger to know where we can be safe - and I've met mostly everything harmful as well." She finally pulled them into a small glade behind a row of trees, just a few hundred feet in from where they previously stood.

"Good. Blaise?"

"Yes?"

"Why did you ask me to meet so late?"

"Students sneaking out are usually back in by midnight, caught or otherwise. I figure if we spent an hour or more out here, nobody will be looking for us. And I am wide awake."

"Well that's alright, I suppose. I couldn't sleep either. When you passed by me earlier in the hall, what was the matter? You looked angry."

"It's not really something I want to talk about."

"Even in our confidences?"

"Even then. Hermione, while I despise Draco to his core, I can't help but attempt to remain his friend - he knows too much. If I disconnected myself from all Slytherins, it would look rather strange _and_ I'd be completely out of the loop on what's going on outside Hogwarts with the Dark Lord."

"I see. I won't say I like it, but for appearances sake, if you must..."

"You mentioned once that your parents are safe?"

"Yes. They are under aliases, hidden somewhere across the globe."

"Good. Listen, he's starting to go after family members - those in the order, you and Ron, anyone who opposes him, really - he's trying to get the lot of you to fear him."

"As if they don't already!"

"He's doing it to get to you all. Dumbledore's last protective spell over Harry at Hogwarts should have died when he did - it's how magic works, I'm sure you know. And yet Harry remains unharmed."

"Untouchable, even. But how?"

"One of the staff members. Someone with a lot of practice in protection, and with enough wit to know what the Carrow's would do."

And so they changed between uncomfortable topics until the sun began to rise on the horizon - just hints of it were visible through the thick set of trees, and Blaise rose, pulling Hermione up with him. In one swift movement he'd captured her lips again, this time holding his place until her lips moved against his, and her arms wrapped around his middle. He kissed her more fully, backing her up against the nearest tree, running his hands through her hair.

And to Hermione, if her detention wasn't enough - the hot, guilty feeling throughout her body was enough torture for now.

* * *

"That'll be detention for both of you."

Hermione shut her mouth - she'd never gotten detention with anyone else before. Harry was involved now. Would they have to do detention together? Or would she be able to keep her secret? She only nodded, glancing over at Harry to gauge his response, but he had the same tight-lipped grimace as she did. She only dared to look out of her peripheral vision at Blaise - but couldn't see enough of him to satisfy what she wanted - not only just to see him, but to try and guess what he could be thinking about it too.

After the last class of the day, he pulled her suddenly and quite roughly into a broom closet down a hallway.

"Snape's said that since you got detention together, you have to handle it together. He offered it to me. I took it. If not... you'd have gone back to Amycus. Snape would have stopped letting me take your detentions."

"This means that Harry's going to find out. He's not going to be happy."

"I wouldn't expect him to be. But him finding out is much better than you having to actually go through another round of Cruciatus curses."

"I suppose... but it's still risky. We need them to believe that you're actually torturing me. And if Harry suddenly stops freaking out about this... people will get suspicious. It's bad enough that we know he has some protection from Death Eaters."

"And you know he will. We're lucky the protection only spans as far as death eaters - even if the Carrow's haven't quite figured that out yet. I'm not a death eater, so we'll have to make it look like I used the cruciatus curse on him, bloodied him up a bit. So what do we do, exactly?"

What Hermione said - "I have no idea." - was different from what she was actually thinking. _Memory Charms. _


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: I'm warning you all now, this fic is probably not going to end the way you want it to. There's a little angsty romance but obviously not tons of fluff or anything. It's a bit dramatic, and will end that way as well. Also, apologies for the semi-short chapter - things are about to pick up with Hermione and Blaise, and on other fronts as well... stay tuned. **

They were set to meet at seven, but Blaise did not arrive until nearly eight at night, when the sun was far below the horizon and Harry looked nearly sick with worry.

"He's going to torture both of us - I can't believe they let him do this to you, to us. It's against the law, it's immoral, it's -"

"Harry, he's coming."

Hermione could not see Blaise approaching, but she knew from the slow, long steps that were coming towards them that he was near. It could be no other - only Blaise had such a remarkable stature. He turned the corner, and as sure as silver he grimaced down at the pair. His eyes connected with Hermione's own - the plan was in motion.

"You're late."

Harry stood, nearly spitting in Blaise's face. "We've been here for nearly an hour! You're the one that's late!"

"I was here fifteen minutes before your detention was due to begin - something you should be used to, Potter. Granger, you should know better too... you've never been late before. Was it Potter's fault?"

"No, it wasn't I swear!" So, she wasn't much of an actress. It would be convincing enough to Harry. Blaise smirked.

"Very well then. Come with me. And keep up - I don't have all night."

* * *

Blood. Harry remembered that Hermione didn't do well with it, but he had a slightly stronger stomach. He pinched his nose, feeling bruising there and a possible break, and lifted his head a degree. The pain that washed through him was unimaginable. Every cell in his body seemed to sharply ache with the reminder that the Cruciatus curse was very recently repeated on him, over and over again. His memory was fuzzy, almost muffled - probably from hitting his head on the final way down - but he could see the disgust in Blaise's eyes, the fear in Hermione's. It was perhaps that which was the worst for him. Hermione had had to watch every painful moment of Harry himself being tortured. It would probably damage her for life. But what were they to do? There was no way they could set out yet, not without a better formed plan.

He raised his head the rest of the way to see Blaise and Hermione whispering animatedly to each other - neither seemed happy about the conversation or the situation. Hermione was bloodied up as bad as he'd seen her before, perhaps worse - there was a large gash running from her jaw, over her nose, stopping just underneath her eye. It could have blinded her. It could scar her for life. Nothing had ever raised such a rage in Harry as he saw right now - a feeling he couldn't put into words was raising up out of him, pushing him to raise from the floor, to stare at Blaise's back, to limp slowly over to him. He raised his wand, saw Hermione make eye contact with him and raise her own, and before he could mutter out a rebuttal to Blaise's torture - everything went black.

* * *

Two days later, Harry was still unconscious. By Hermione's own hand had he gotten this way to begin with - she'd seen him preparing to attack Blaise, and she couldn't allow that - not after Harry's pain would only be very temporary, a clever charm used by Hermione to aide the false memories she'd placed in his head. She'd knocked him out before Blaise even stopped talking. He hadn't yet woken. And what if he never did? What if she knocked him into a coma, and the world was lost now? What good was her little detention scheme then?

Blaise had helped her carry Harry to the Hospital wing, but left just outside the doors. He needed to keep up appearances. Hermione called Madam Pomfrey, who levitated him into a bed. Hermione had been distraught for days, rarely speaking a word to anyone but Ron, wanting only for Harry to wake and to keep the false memories so that the plans would work perfectly.

In the mean time, she'd had days to think over their plan. The hunt was for Horcruxes - and she'd been able to do a little more research on them with some books she'd acquired quite mischeivously at the end of last term the year previous. It wasn't stealing, really - Dumbledore would have left better protection charms on them if he hadn't wanted her to find them in the first place. She flipped through one now, trying to find something that mentioned methods or tools for destroying Horcruxes. So far, she'd found nothing - what little she had on the subject at all was very vague, fearful even to the author. She contemplated their moves, their possible locations, how many there would be - seven, probably - and what on earth they could be. What if they were halfway around the world? What would they do then? Would they even have time to find them all before Voldemort attained an army large enough to take over? Before he killed off anyone who wasn't pureblood? She shuddered at the thought. She'd be off on a mission - but so many would be stuck at home, or at Hogwarts, and if they failed - Merlin forbid - they'd all die.

She had no more time to dwell on the subject. Harry groaned, his eyes fluttering open. Relief was not the only feeling to fill Hermione - guilt stayed there, too.

"'Mione... your scar is healed."

"I can't say the same for yours - the one you've always had. But you look the same. How do you feel?"

"Not in pain, not anymore. Just sick."

"That's probably the potion Pomfrey gave you - you were having nightmares, wouldn't stop screaming. She had to magic it into you."

"I figured something strange like that. Are you okay? What day is it? Did I miss Transfiguration?"

"I'm fine - just worried about you. Blaise has put me through worse." Not really. "It's Thursday. You missed it twice."

Harry groaned again. "I already have a week to catch up on, I don't need two more days. I should have stayed in a coma."

Hermione shook her head when he wasn't looking. No, despite hiding a huge secret from him and the work it entailed, she'd much rather have him alive.

* * *

That night in the dormitory, Hermione related her entire set of plans to Harry and Ron - everything she'd found in the last few days about what they would need to be doing to take down the Dark Lord. They listened intently, nodded, and then thought about it. Neither spoke for a moment, the realization dawning on all three of them then that leaving would happen much sooner than they thought.

"What's the date?"

"October twelfth."

"Perfect. We leave at Christmas."

"Harry, we can't leave with the rest of the other students. If we're anywhere outside the school boundaries, I bet you'll be torn apart!"

Ron, who was still sitting silent, nodded and gave a non-committal grunt, he was agreeing.

"We'll apparate just outside the gate - we'll do it on the last Hogsmeade trip of Christmas break. Just outside the gates. No one will expect us to be that thick. We'll turn the tables."

"I still think we should wait longer..."

This time, Ron spoke up. "Why, so I can watch the two of you be tortured? Not likely. We leave at Christmas, Hermione. You've been outvoted. You're coming with us."

She had no choice but to nod - though the idea of possibly only having two months left with Blaise before separation, war, or death was a frightening one - the idea that someone would find out if they had more time was even more terrifying.


End file.
